


what's wrong with  you, with us

by crooked



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-01
Updated: 2010-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crooked/pseuds/crooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's known this moment was coming, known it for weeks, but it doesn't make it any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what's wrong with  you, with us

**Author's Note:**

> [original post](http://crooked.livejournal.com/237365.html) @ livejournal.

Every word slices through him like a knife.

_We've grown apart, Sirius._

He's known this moment was coming, known it for weeks, but it doesn't make it any easier. Seeing it in Remus' familiar scrawl, the indelible ink forever etched on the parchment, finally makes it real.

_You try so hard to act like nothing's wrong, but I can't do this anymore. Life is fucked up enough as it is._

He tries to recall the last time they had a meaningful conversation, and it's been so long he can't think of a single thing. They've been reduced to terse 'good morning's over coffee, inane small talk in the sparse moments they're in the flat at the same time, mumbled 'good night's as they roll away from each other and sleep on opposite sides of the bed.

_It's not like you're going to miss me. We barely speak, never touch. We're already living separate lives. This will just make it easier._

The last time they kissed was six weeks ago. Six bloody weeks when there was a time when scarcely six minutes could pass before his lips itched for Remus'.

_You don't trust me. I don't trust you. So what are we doing?_

He knows the words are all true, and he hates it even more for precisely that reason. They're not meant to end like this. Hell, they weren't meant to end at all.

_I still love you, and part of me wants to believe you still love me. But sometimes love just isn't enough._

Sirius slides down the side of the avocado green refrigerator the note is stuck to, curling his knees into his chest. He'd stood in the kitchen for what had seemed like hours, barefoot and reading the note over and over before carefully placing it back in its spot. He can't stand to look at it anymore, but he can't quite bring himself to tear it up or burn it.

_I'm sorry. —R._

The next day, Sirius balls up the note and starts to rip off the date on the tear-away calendar but something stays his hand. Maybe it's masochistic, but he leaves the date up and doesn't change it for ages. It's not exactly a happy occasion to mark, but he wants to remember 05 August 1981 as the worst day of his life.

(Until 31 October rolls around a few months later.)


End file.
